


油断せずに行こう！　(Don’t be careless!)

by besanii



Series: 学園小説 [8]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Arguing, Injury, Kyudo, Locker Room, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2308694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besanii/pseuds/besanii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don’t you start," he warns. "I’m still pissed as fuck at you."</p>
<p>"I’m not going to apologise."</p>
<p>In which Enjolras and Grantaire are rivals in the same high school archery club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	油断せずに行こう！　(Don’t be careless!)

**Author's Note:**

> [Serena](http://seagreeneyes.tumblr.com/) was emoting all over the place about Free! just the other day, and [Cassie](http://defractum.tumblr.com/) and I have been reliving our Tenimyu days, so this is taken from a bit of both. The title is the “catchphrase” for Tezuka Kunimitsu, from Prince of Tennis, because I’m feeling nostalgic.
> 
> Enjolras and Grantaire are in their third year of senior high, which is also their final year before university, so this is their last season before they have to buckle down for entrance exams. Talks of injury, hurt/comfort, lots of angry emotions and forehead touching.
> 
> Basically, same old tooth-rotting fluff.

The door to the changing room slams open and Grantaire strides in, fully dressed in his ceremonial robes. He looks livid.

“ _ _Why didn’t you tell me__ ,” he demands.

Enjolras, on his part, doesn’t look up from applying the freeze spray onto his shoulder, red and swollen from the exertions of the morning. He sighs as the pain ebbs, and reaches for the bandages on the bench beside him. It’s awkward and he needs to use his teeth.

Grantaire watches him struggle with the bandages. There’s a twitch to his brow and his jaw is clenched tight, but he gives an irritated huff and stalks over, hand outstretched.

"Give that to me." He takes the end of the bandage from Enjolras and sits himself down on the bench. "Hopeless, you are."

"Thank you," Enjolras says.

Grantaire shoots him a glare as he works.

"Don’t you start," he warns. "I’m still pissed as fuck at you."

"I’m not going to apologise."

Grantaire sighs. "I know you’re not."

His hands are much gentler than his tone, and they have the bandages expertly secured in a matter of minutes. He pulls back and lets Enjolras test the shoulder gingerly, flexing his arm in slow, deliberate movements. When Enjolras appears satisfied with his work, Grantaire gets to his feet.

"Grantaire." Enjolras’ voice stops him mid-step. Grantaire shakes his head, folds his arms across his chest and refuses to turn around.

"I don’t want to hear it," he says. Enjolras sighs.

"Grantaire, I couldn’t throw away the match," he says. "You know that–"

"No, I don’t, actually," Grantaire snaps. He whirls around and there’s fire in his eyes, a galvanising fury that masks the hurt. "I don’t actually know when you decided to be a __fucking idiot__ who would risk his own _safety_ and _health_ for a __stupid__ _Regionals match_!”

Enjolras leaps to his feet also, fists clenched at his side.

"It’s not just _a_ _ _stupid Regionals match__ ,” he tells him; the sarcasm weighs down the last few words. “It’s our last match on the high school circuit–”

"What do you mean last match? There’s still Nationals–"

Enjolras raises an eyebrow incredulously.

"Do you really think Javert will let me play now?" he asks, gesturing to his shoulder. "I can’t even draw, let alone with __proper posture__.”

Grantaire gapes at him. “You __knew__? You knew it was __that bad__ and you didn’t try to get __help__? Are you __actually__ stupid, Enjolras?”

"Well, forgive me for wanting to honour our last chance to play against each other!" Enjolras retorts. He runs his uninjured hand through his hair in frustration. "If I can’t play now, what makes you think I can do it for Nationals? This was my last shot before Javert caught on and benched me!"

He drops onto the bench, head in hand. Grantaire slumps back against the lockers with his arms folded and a frown marring his face.

"I just–" Enjolras’ voice is muffled by his hand. "This is our last year, Grantaire. After this, there’s not going to be club practices, or championships, or _any_ of this. I just wanted one more chance to shoot with you, side by side, and–”

He’s interrupted by Grantaire hand on his knee, and looks up to find Grantaire kneeling in front of him. His eyes are unbearably soft and tender; a smile plays on the corners of his lips. Enjolras is transfixed by his gaze, feels the heat rise to his cheeks with Grantaire’s touch upon them, and leans forward until their foreheads touch.

"Ah, Enjolras," Grantaire says quietly, "this isn’t the end. I’m not giving up __kyudo__ if you’re not. We’ll have uni, or other clubs – we could go pro together, if you wanted to. But I would much rather have you healthy and whole to do that.”

Enjolras reaches up to cover Grantaire’s hand with his own.

"I’m sorry." He sighs and closes his eyes. "You’re right, I’m sorry."

Grantaire presses a kiss to his forehead and smiles.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://besanii.tumblr.com/)


End file.
